


Subversion and Perversion

by boredwriting



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Backstory, Cock & Ball Torture, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hair-pulling, Parent/Child Incest, Past Torture, Pegging, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredwriting/pseuds/boredwriting
Summary: When the Camarilla appoints Sebastian LaCroix to serve as the city's new Prince, the Anarchs send Therese Voerman to act as their emissary as they try to keep the peace, at least for a little while. When LaCroix and Therese get involved in a strange love affair, Jeanette decides to intervene and take matters into her own hands.
Relationships: Sebastian LaCroix/Jeanette Voerman, Sebastian LaCroix/Therese Voerman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So it's canon that LaCroix gets pegged by Jeanette. I believe it's mentioned in the V5 book. It's a short little excerpt that's supposed to be a joke but hey, there's a story opportunity there!
> 
> This is a one-shot with a fair amount of warnings, so I'd like to detail them here to be transparent. There are references to the Voerman sisters' backstory with their father, which is part of the non-con element and where the parent/child incest tag comes from. These sections only exist as part of the plot and reference to the canon. They are not part of the explict/smutty parts of the fic. There is also a reference where LaCroix is tortured by his sire, which is also a non-con element. The scene is slightly smutty, so fair warning. The main scene with LaCroix and both sisters is purely consensual and is where the real smut of the fic lies. There are heavy BDSM elements at play, so be cautious if it's not within your comfort zone. If you're only interested in the smut, which is more than fair, and it's all on Chapter 6. 
> 
> I wrote this as a porn-with-plot one-shot and not as a senseless grimdark story, though it does contain dark elements. I don't wish to offend anyone. I am only looking to appeal to people who enjoy melodrama with their smut. If I depict something wrong, miss a tag, or anything like that, feel free to write a message and we can talk about it. 
> 
> With that all covered, I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: I have this habit of doing routine edits to existing stories. If it looks slightly different than before, that's why.

October 2000

The Voerman sisters are many things; strange, elusive, exotic, and chaotic, but hardly ever forgetful. Throughout their two lifetimes together, their curse has granted them the ability to receive and interpret visions and sounds, see through the chaos and pick out the sensible from the nonsensical, discern the poetry from the endless noise. Or in other words, view the past and predict the future with some amount of certainty. Their Anarch cohorts had counted on them to act as their Barons and their seers, to keep watch of outside forces that would threaten their way of life.

However, neither of them could have predicted the day the Camarilla would take over the city. In the midst of the new Millennium panic, the government conspiracies, and the Y2K crash, the sisters missed out on the crucial hint that the Ivory Tower was coming for them. While the Kuei Jin were descending upon their ranks like a typhoon, the Camarilla exploited the moment to plant their seeds across LA. Before the twins could sense what was going on, the Camarilla had already taken over Downtown and a new Prince had taken residence in the old Venture Tower.

Now the Camarilla claims they hold dominion over all of LA, regardless of what other Kindred say.

The news caused a massive disruption within the Anarchs, and resulted in major backlash from all those who counted on them to keep watch. Nines Rodriguez in particular, who was forced to assume the role of their de facto leader, has publicly denounced them and won't speak to them on matters not regarding business. Not that Therese cares for him much, but Jeanette is devastated by it. She always liked the burly rascal.

In Jeanette's emotional absence, Therese has accepted the role as a reluctant emissary for the Anarch's first meeting with the Prince. She knows she was given the role as a sort of punishment from Nines, though she also knows he's painfully aware that out of all of them, she is their best speaker. On her office door, she was only left a simple note written on scrap notebook paper.

_Cam Meeting at 10 tomorrow. Venture Tower. Go see what the bastard wants._

There's no signature but it's clear enough who it's from.

The night of the meeting, Therese is more than prepared for this. She walks down the streets of LA, carrying only her gray business suit, her best reading glasses, and her haughtiest demeanor. Dissonant whisperings and visions play in her head as she moves, though for once she chooses not to pay them any mind.

Therese wants to keep her composure and appear as calm as possible. She would rather act sane and oblivious for a night. It's a little more fun to be surprised after all.

She takes a taxi to Venture Tower Downtown. When she steps through the doors, a guard greets her in the lobby. Most of the ground floor is under heavy construction and is being actively guarded.

“Name and occupation.” The kine asks her. The cloudy blue look in his eyes tells her he can't comprehend what's being said; he can only act on programmed commands like a machine. The work of a Camarilla Ventrue, no doubt.

“Therese Voerman. Owner and proprietor of The Asylum.” She responds.

“Right this way.” He turns and leads her to an open elevator pre-programmed to bring visitors to the Penthouse floor. He steps aside to reveal a lavishly redecorated cart. She takes the cue to walk in. The elevator shuts and immediately brings her upwards.

When the doors open, she exits and pushes her way through one last set of doors. She's welcomed by a spectacular sight of a larger-than-life space, adorned with sunlight gold trims on light-colored walls and fine art detailing Biblical and historical events. It makes The Gallery Noir look paltry. She becomes green with envy.

In front of her, a blond man, presumably the Prince, is sitting at a white lacquered desk going through paperwork while the Sheriff, an abnormally large man, stands guard beside him.

Out of boredom and curiosity, Therese turns her mind to the Sheriff on the left.

She sees thick foliage in the darkness, a blade used to cut through it and other Kindred, smells of wet leaves and blood fill the humid air. It's a lovely night in Africa. He's a Nagloper, a Tzmisce but not Sabbat, he soars through the sky like a bat reaching for the moon. In his talons, he's carrying a man. He's light like a feather. Fragile and white as a dove. His clothes are tattered and he's exposed to the elements. He's half-awake, writhing in pain. He whispers something in French. The debt the bat owes this man is heavy and everlasting. It's another night in Africa.

He stares her down, remaining silent and unmoving for the entire duration. She doesn't move either.

Eventually, the Prince notices her arrival and stands to announce her.

“Good evening, Ms. Voerman. Please, come forward.” He gets up to walk around the desk and greet her. His voice is light and sweet. He's boyish, hiding his trim figure underneath a long black overcoat. The click-clacking of his leather shoes reveal a deliberate heaviness in his gait. He must like the sound of those shoes.

Therese walks down the walkway to the end. He captures more of her sight as she gets closer. She opens him up to her.

He smells of gunpowder, aged blood, and caked-on dirt. Men are dying around him and he can't control himself. Guilt fills his heart like a sad song. He grabs a body and tries to run with it. He drops it and fails to carry it through. He fails himself. A lead round bites his leg. Now he detests the sound and taste of lead.

She cuts out when she's within a close distance to him. She's gotten good at playing the switching game.

“Good evening. I do apologize, Prince. I haven't received the pleasure of learning your name yet.” She curtsies like she remembers doing many years ago, the last time when polite society meant something to her.

“Sebastian LaCroix. Prince Sebastian LaCroix.”

Sebastian looks terrible in a crown and even worse in a cape. He hates hats and canes even more. He throws a garment at his stylist. This simply won't do! No, not at all. A contemporary suit jacket will suffice. I will be a modern Prince, for a modern era. No need to remind the rabble of the Camarilla of yesteryear. I will defy the old rules. The old traditions. I am a duplicitous Prince to the Elders.

“Very well, Prince LaCroix. You may refer to me as anything you wish.” Therese was her grandmother's name. Her daddy's own mother. She died before she was born but her daddy never failed to show her how much mommy dearest meant to him.

“If Ms. Voerman still suits you, we can continue with that.”

“Of course.” She nods.

“I had an understanding that your sister, a Jeanette Voerman, would be here as well. Is there a reason she couldn't make her acquaintance tonight?”

A reason? Why does there have to be a reason, why can't Jeanette just stay hidden-

... Oh. She sees now. The Prince doesn't know about them, their condition. He doesn't know any Kindred in this city that isn't already in his employ. He was expecting another body in the room. Specifically, Jeanette's licentious body next to theirs in the same space.

A few nights ago, there was a note on fancy linen paper delivered to the Last Round. It was penned in the Prince's ink and quill to Nines Rodriguez, the supposed leader of the Downtown Anarchs. With one look, Nines scoffs and only leaves a card at the bar. When an adjutant arrives to collect, all he gets is their business card. Therese and Jeanette Voerman, The Asylum Nightclub. Two different phone numbers.

Therese missed the first phone call and she can't recall if Jeanette ever answered her phone. If the Prince is expecting them both, she must have. What did she tell him?

There's a nervous twitch in the Prince's brow. He knows of Jeanette but Therese can't tell to what extent. Did she do something already? His face says he needs Therese to guard him from her. They need to talk.

“She chose not to be here tonight. Like the other Anarchs in this city, she takes issue with the recent change in leadership.” She lies to keep the opportunities open. It may help them to appear as two separate bodies when they otherwise can't.

“I see.” A wash of relief comes through him. His trepidation is soon replaced by a cocksure speech.

“Her reluctance is understandable, albeit frustrating given the current circumstances. I received a similar answer from Mr. Rodriguez. It's unfortunate how his personal beliefs set the precedence for the rest of the Anarchs below him, instead of letting them come to their own conclusions. If only they're allowed to think for themselves. It's clear enough that there is immense value in being under Camarilla protection.”

“How so?” Clear? No. She can't see it, not yet anyway. She couldn't see the Ivory Tower in her recollection of the past. She still can't see it even far into the future. And the Prince's personal future is... murky at best.

“I am aware of your recent war with the Kuei-Jin. I've seen first hand how they've decimated your ranks and divided your leaders. It was because of the Camarilla's efforts that we were able to consolidate what little power was left from your forces and negotiate a peace pact with the Kuei Jin. I understand it is not a popular option, given the Anarchs penchant for violence...”

Scarlet red blood runs through the cracks of rot and ash on the streets. Fires, perpetuated by the rebels, by the Eastern invasion, and by the whims of chaos light up the night in bright orange hues. Screams of pain ring along with blasts and gunfire. Kine, caught in the middle, ran over and discarded like paper. The heat is unbearable.

“But if we, collectively as Kindred-kind, are to rebuild in this city, our best option is through the structure our organization provides.”

The conference table is cool to the touch. This is his realm, not the battlefield. Papers, photographs, sticky notes, pen marks litter the surface. Multiple phone lines and calculators are out to balance the digits. Death is just a number. Kindred are calculated on a graph. The press is on the line. It's the masking he has to worry about.

Future plans have yet to be set into motion. Mask it all away.

“I know of the Masquerade and its Traditions. We followed a similar set of guidelines for ourselves but not strictly. How do you plan to enforce it, given our current position?”

A smirk emerges from his lips. “Straight to business. I can respect that. However, that is a topic we will have to touch upon another night. Tonight is only a night for introductions, you see. For these first few nights, I simply wish to make the acquaintance of this city's most influential Kindred. I want to dispel any ill will that might have manifested during the acquisition. I am aware of how weary the city's Kindred are to the Camarilla, but we do not need to be enemies to coexist in this city.”

This... takes her aback. She expected something different from a Ventrue Prince. For years, she's taught herself the act of mimicry. She learned to encapsulate refinement and confidence, stoicism and well-defined grace, into an image she desperately wanted for herself: the complete image of success and stability. She's had plenty of traveling Ventrue to use as inspiration. Very rarely were they as kind and welcoming as he is.

“Truly? You only called me here to get to know me?”

“Yes. It's important to form good working relationships, wouldn't you say?” He's eager to please.

He looks straight into the pit of her eyes. She knows he can't see Jeanette past the silver iris surface. But she wonders what he's trying to find from peering in. She gazes back at own his surface.

He's blond, silver-blue eyed, and dressed for business. He's classically handsome with a strong angled jaw, a prominent nose, and soft curved lips. His youth betrays his seat of authority and lights up the room with a naive glow. Both of their presumptive physical and chronological ages are similar. He towers above her by a couple of inches, and she can't help but feel girlish under his gaze. When he speaks, she swears she can pick up a flavor in his tone, something passionate and wicked. She pictures him before her as Bacchus, holding an imaginary glass of blood wine in one hand and a promise of immense pleasure in the other.

She sighs. She's supposed to despise him. The other Anarchs expect her to tear him apart and scatter his parts in the ocean. But she's too intrigued to turn away. She wants to engage in this secret curiosity.

“Very well. Let's talk then, shall we? I believe we can find some common ground somewhere, you and I.” She delivers a knowing, flirtatious smile.

The Prince returns with a grin. “Finally. I've met an Anarch who's willing to be pleasant _and_ accommodating. I get the feeling we will become fast acquaintances, Ms. Voerman.”


	2. An Internal Dialogue Between Two Sisters

Oooh, the Prince. What's he like?

You don't have to ask such useless questions, Jeanette. Just look for yourself.

Oh, I have already. But I want to hear it from you, sister. You're the one who got to see him in the flesh.

Why do you care? He's a man, just like any other. You don't make any distinctions between them; the Prince isn't much different.

But this one is royalty! And so are you, Queenie. Should we expect a royal wedding in the future?

How revolting! We were only there to introduce ourselves. Nothing more, nothing less.

C'mon, Therese. Even I felt the rumblings under your skirt while I was tucked away nice and deep. You don't normally like boys.

Is it that unusual? He's pleasant to look at and he acts like a gentleman. It's not every night I meet a Kindred so civil.

So think you found your match. Is that it? Is he a reflection that's better fitting to you than I am?

We just met, Jeanette. He's not anything to me yet. Just let me navigate this one and see where this gets us.

I dunno, sis. Nines and the crew already hate our guts for not seeing the Cam coming at our doorstep, and now you want to build a nest in the Prince's bed? They'll never look us straight in the face again.

You should stop caring what the others think of you. They've always judged you for being the Town Harlot and me for being the 'Queen Bitch'. The Anarchs have been stagnating for years. Don't you think it's about time to pursue other ventures?

Other 'Ventrues', you mean. You can't fool him forever.

It's not hard to play a role. Listen to me, Jeanette. I need to cast this charade to get us an opportunity, a way into the relative safety and luxury of the Camarilla. I'm doing this to protect us.

You can't lie to me. You might feel like a catch, but all you'll catch is more lies and heartbreak.

How is it any business of yours how I feel? Do you know how many times I've had to numb myself from waking up to your dalliances? Why can't you be quiet when I want one for myself?

This is different, Therese, Very different. Those other boys, the kine I have wrapped around my finger, they're merely cattle. They take my body and I use them to feed us. But you... you're aiming for the big fish. He's not just Kindred. He's the goddamn Prince. He'll tear us apart and eat you alive.

Is that so terrible? Don't you hate me? If the former happens, you'll never see the latter appear.

I can't live without you, Therese. He's not gentle like Daddy. Once he starts digging into you, he'll take you away from me, mind, body and soul.

Don't bring Daddy into this! And do you really think so little of me? You think I'd succumb so easily to that weak Ventrue's charms?

His body might be thin and malleable, but his mind has its own tricks. I was the one who spoke to him on the phone. I filled his head with sweet nothings and empty platitudes, and he hid a dagger behind that honeysuckle tone. He has no love for me. But he has a use for you, sister. He could make us do something awful.

There is no 'us', Jeanette. Not for this.

What do you think will happen when you drink the wine? When he offers you that penultimate glass?

I expect you to stay out of it, whatever happens.

I don't get lovedrunk, sister. I can't carry you if you fall.

Enough! What did you tell him? On the phone?

Can't you trust me on this one little thing? He's bad news, sister.

What. Did. You. Tell. Him?

I told him the basics. That we're sisters and you call the shots while I work the front. Told him Nines will never talk to him without going through each of us first. Told him I'm not much for talk and I'd rather wrestle him in the sheets than in court. That's when his snippy tone came out. Said he wants to deal with you first. Told him we're a package deal, though I don't think he got the picture. Then he hung up.

Is that all? Is that really all?

Doubting me again? I've been nothing but truthful, honey.

How was he expecting both of us, two full bodies at that meeting?

'What does that fucker want? Just tell him to expect both of them to show. I don't care how they handle it.'

Nines?

The Cammy agent was persistent. Then Nines wrote something in a notebook and gave it to him. Stuck it on our door. See what that bastard wants at 10 o'clock.

He needs to keep thinking we're two separate bodies. I'll continue dealing with him alone. Let me make it work for us.

So you're going to keep me locked up every time you want to see your dear Prince?

I don't trust you with him. You'll ruin everything.

He's a Cammy snake. He only wants one thing.

Your lack of faith in me is noted. Leave me be.

What if I want to peek in to check up on you?

NO. Never!

Just for a moment? It'll be fun, like a Jack in the Box! You'll talk business, then I pop out like BOO!

Stop it! We will not speak of this again. I don't care what you have to say about me and him. Focus on your own self for once.

I won't let him hurt us, Therese. You can't stop me when I come out.

Stay in and shut up, or I'll get rid of you for good!

I'm going to meet him one night. I promise.

Shut. Up! Jeanette!


	3. Small Reminders of the Past

January 2002

Therese's next several meetings with the Prince are infrequent and usually arranged at the last minute, but she doesn't mind. It's not unlike the club business where meetings there are often run like affairs, behind closed doors and called on a whim.

Though nowadays, there doesn't seem to be a distinction between them.

She's gotten close to the Prince, whom she now affectionately calls by his first name, and he to her. In these meetings, they discuss business as usual, things like arranging for the Camarilla to operate in Anarch spaces and placating the other Barons. As a whole, the Anarchs are still unhappy with the Camarilla and the Prince, but at the very least they're willing to listen to Therese. She's been instrumental in bridging some of the gaps between them.

In the moments she and Sebastian can scrounge up after they conclude their meetings, they share brief acts of tenderness, never more intense than a light embrace or a soft kiss. He holds back so much and she's afraid to press him further. He closes his eyes when they get close and so does she. She gets a single jolt of passion when they make the slightest contact and it's always enough to make her night. She hopes it's the same for him as well.

There's another scheduled meeting tonight. She arrives at the Penthouse without a minute to spare. Sebastian greets her as usual and beckons her to sit by his desk. While he holds a smile for her, his appearance is tired and unkempt. The bags under his eyes are deeper, darker and sunken in. His hair overwhelmed by loose strands unraveling all over his combed over do. He swipes and presses down a large unraveling curl in annoyance.

“Therese. The highlight of my evening. Let's get to it, shall we? What demands does Nines Rodriguez have for me this time?” He sounds exasperated and partially disinterested.

“Nines wants to increase the Last Round's buffer zone from 100 meters to 300 meters. He also requests for his area to be a safe haven for the local kine, mostly bar locals and traveling vagrants.” She says this very matter-of-factly.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and scoffs. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head.

Daddy used to do the same thing. Little Therese came home one day with a bad grade and a note from school. She's been touching the boys again, the teachers said. The other parents are complaining. Daddy reads the note at his desk and he shakes his head and pinches his bridge. He just got back from work and he's tired. He looks at her once and she's terrified. Oh no, she thinks. He's going to beat her. But he doesn't. Instead he pats her on the head and tells her, 'Behave yourself next time'.

Therese angles her head down and looks at her shoes. She doesn't look up when he finally responds.

“That's not feasible. We already have investors and contractors on the way to scout out the area for future development. It's already bad enough that the kine rabble are giving them a poor impression, and affecting land values. I must decline. I don't expect Mr. Rodriguez to understand, so I leave it up to you to deliver the news as tactfully as possible..”

She looks up when she doesn't hear him move from his seat. He's still unhappy, but thankfully not at her. “Nines has told me he will not take any answer other than 'the right one'. He and his coterie are likely to react violently to this response. But I will still do as you ask.”

He sighs. “I expect nothing less from our sad rebel leader. Please do. I am already divulging a plan to mitigate some of the expected damages. I will not attribute any of their actions to you.”

“Thank you, my Prince. I will get on it right away.” She bows her head from her seat.

“Please continue to watch yourself around Rodriguez and his gang. They've been respectful enough towards you so far, but that could change anytime. Do be careful.” His brows scrunch up in genuine concern. It touches her heart.

“Of course. I appreciate the concern.”

Little Therese is growing up. She's big enough to get into fights with other girls now. She had to go home after the teachers caught her with scratch marks on her face and blood on her teeth. Daddy was horrified when he heard the news. Little Therese tried to tell him the other girl deserved it for trying to take her boyfriend, but the excuse only heightens his concern. He holds her close and wipes away the blood from her wounds. 'You need to watch yourself around your friends, honey. They'll only get meaner as they get older. Do be careful next time.'

Sebastian stands up from his chair. Therese follows suit. He walks around the desk to meet her where she stands. Without a word, he wraps his hands around her waist and pulls her close. She reciprocates by holding him around his shoulders. He rests his chin on her shoulder and exhales a small breath of relief onto her ear. She tightens her grip on his shoulders out of pleasure.

He pulls back slightly and delivers a soft kiss on her lips. Their lips are barely touching, barely locking. It's so soft and understated, and yet it still means the world to her.

Little Therese isn't little anymore. She's growing out of her clothes. She's growing breasts and her hips are a little wider and she's getting upset over the littlest things now. The kids are making fun of her nipples sticking out of her shirt and for her skirt rising up too high. She's ashamed of herself. She goes home to Daddy and cries on his shoulder. 'I don't wanna grow up. I won't be your little girl anymore.' He holds her and hushes her. Then he pulls back and kisses her on the lips. It's the first time he, or anyone, has ever kissed her like this. She doesn't know what to do, except to accept it openly and cherish it. Daddy still loves her.

Sebastian pulls away and steps back. Therese beams a smile in his direction and it causes him to do the same. That small hint of happiness from a tired, downtrodden man is enough to make her blush. He bids her farewell and she takes her leave. She continues to carry him close to her heart. Even if their small acts of intimacy never grow past this, she can do this forever.


	4. Subversion

March 2002

It's a rare rainy day in Los Angeles. Therese arrives at the Penthouse floor soaking wet. The suitcase she's carrying is drenched from acting as a makeshift umbrella. She runs to dry off before their next meeting. She'd be mortified to have him see her look like a drowned rat.

Therese gets inside the Ladies' room and it's thankfully empty. She sets the suitcase down and examines herself in the mirror. Her hair is flat, her makeup is running and there are wet spots all over her suit. She pulls paper towels and uses the wall mounted hand dryer to dry herself off. It feels highly undignified, but what choice does she have?

She takes another look in the mirror as she tightens her hair back into a neat bun. She takes a tissue to wipe away the running mascara and takes out a fresh tube from her pocket.

As she moves to apply it close to her lash line, her hand twitches and swipes the wand into her right eye.

Therese screams. She throws the wand down and tries to get a tissue to mitigate the burning. But her hand doesn't respond. Instead it reaches back up to her reddened eye and smudges the black material all over her lower and upper lash line. Then up into the fold of her eye and up to beneath the brow before dragging the blackened finger down her cheek.

Therese can't control herself. She knows what this is.

Jeanette! No, what are you doing here?

I'm going to meet your Majesty, my dear sister.

No, you can't! You'll blow our cover. He can't know about you!

I won't reveal our secret, Therese. He'll simply be meeting me for the first time.

No! He can't! No! I need this, Jeanette! Don't ruin this for me!

I need to see this one for myself. You play the role of a snake charmer poorly.

Stop! Wait! No!

Pop!

Therese takes her left hand and grabs Jeanette's hair furiously. Jeanette resists by grabbing Therese's wrist. They pull and tug at each other and yell, their voices blended together. Therese tries to get the upper hand by pushing their head into the mirror. The first time she rams it in, it barely touches the surface. Then the next time it happens, Jeanette is the one to ram them in full force.

The momentum shatters the mirror it into pieces, creating a web of cracks on its surface. The violent blow brings them both into an intense spinning daze. They both try to focus on the mirror to catch themselves in the broken reflection. Double vision prevents them from seeing one another clearly.

After a time, only one sister recovers from the blow. Jeanette sees herself in the cracked mirror and laughs in triumph. Therese has been pushed into the dark recesses of their mind. Jeanette pops open the suitcase she prepared behind Therese's back and takes out her favorite schoolgirl uniform. She's going to have so much fun with this.

She stows Therese's clothes into the suitcase and leave the case in the bathroom. She finds the doors to the Prince's office and pushes them open with as much force as she can muster. The doors swing open with enough sound to draw the Prince's and the Sheriff's attention. She struts down the walkway like a model and throws in a twirl for good measure. The Prince's mouth goes agape.

“Therese? What is the meaning of this?!” He shouts out in surprise. He can't keep his eyes off her exposed skin.

“Wrong sister, sweetie!” She blurts out. This causes the Prince to shoot out from his chair and stand back. The Sheriff reacts by readying his hand by the handle on his sword. “Whoa, take it easy everyone. I only came here to make an appearance. I thought you'd be happier, Sebastian.”

“That's 'Prince LaCroix' to you!” He grips the edge of the window behind him. “I was told you'd never show!”

“Therese can't keep me out forever. She tried to push me away but I know how to find my way back. And now I'm here! Like an unexpected birthday present.” She's about six meters or so from LaCroix. She tries to take a step toward only to be stopped by the Sheriff, who nudges his body forward as a warning.

“How did you get in here?” LaCroix lowers his voice to a growl. “How did you make it past the guards?”

“Gotta vet your employees better, hun. It took no effort at all. All I did was walk myself into the lobby, got into an elevator and pressed a button.” She bends over forward and makes a button pressing gesture. LaCroix turns away to avoid looking down her chest. He's completely flustered.

“Jeanette.” It's his first time addressing her by her name. He sounds so pointed when he’s angry. She loves it. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, bunny. I'm here to make an appearance. I want to see the man who's gotten my sister's heart all aflutter.” Jeanette puts her hands on her hips and stands defiantly. She looks to the Sheriff who still looks like he's ready to pounce her at any moment. This feels like an odd stand off.

“You know about us?” His tone sharp like a dagger.

“Of course. I'm her sister. I know everything about her.” She tells him flippantly. “I know about every meeting you've had with her. Every boring business deal brokered. Every plot you threatened to hash out against Nines. Every little hug and kiss you two share as a good night parting. It’s all very sweet, really.” Jeanette's grin grows wider as LaCroix's dread deepens.

“I trusted her to keep all of that private. How dare she?!” He's seething in anger. He tightens his fists and bares his fangs.

“Don't blame poor Therese for my actions. She technically didn't tell anyone. I just know how to get in her head like no one else. Trust me on this, I know she’ll be just as mad as you are.”

Sebastian looks to his Sheriff, locking eyes with him briefly before turning back to Jeanette. He's trying to read her expression, but the joke's on him.

A newly fledged Sebastian is kneeling before a tall woman above him. He's stripped of his clothing and his hands are tied behind him with a chaffing rope. He's leaning forward in an attempt to conserve what's left of his dignity and modesty. <'You broke one of the Traditions. You will pay dearly for your mistake.'> The woman reprimands him in French. She whips his back with a long thin stick. He flinches from the pain and doesn't utter a sound.

“Are you going to sic the Sheriff on me, Prince? Get him to rip me to shreds while poor Therese weeps from the sidelines?” Jeanette puts on her best sad girl performance. She squishes her brows, downturns her lips and brings her voice up to a pitiful pitch.

“I don't need his assistance. I will handle this myself.” LaCroix loosens the slack in his body. He patiently makes his way towards Jeanette until he's face to face and within touching distance from her. He angles his head down and stares her down.

She stares back and reverts to her usual mischievous grin. “What are you going to do to me, now that you know what I know?”

He forcefully grabs her by the jaw. “ **You will forget everything you know about me.** ”

She pushes back on her cheeks to let out a laugh. “What was that, babe? I didn't catch that.”

He clutches her harder, digging his nails into her skin. “ **I said. You. Will. Forget. Me.”**

She laughs even more. “How can I, darling? You're such a bad Prince.”

She catches a glimpse of light shining in his eye. It's all she needs to get in. She snatches it.

A wave of heat and blood rushes through her head. She pulls him in. He freezes up.

...

Fledgling Sebastian is back on his knees. His upper back still stings from the strike. The tall woman, whom he knows as Mademoiselle, prods his shoulder with the stick. He doesn't dare look up from the ground.

<'Recite the Tradition you broke for me.'>

He draws a blank. Sebastian is so new to this unlife he can't recall right away. He lets out a gasp of air to give the impression he's about to answer. She's not impressed. She strikes him on his lower back against his tailbone. The pain radiates and travels up his spine. He shivers and bites down on his newly sharpened teeth.

<'You can't fool me, boy. I will make you remember.'>

He feels cold. Cold from the lack of clothing. Cold from the lack of mortal warmth. He thinks his blood is about to freeze. Mademoiselle pushes her shoe down on the back of his neck, forcing his bottom up and his face down to kiss the ground. She strikes his bottom with a crackling blow. It's the hardest blow thus far, and it's enough to force a shout out of him. The skin on his knees is peeling.

<'Let me remind you, Fledgling. When you are in my domain, you own me nothing but your utmost respect. Anything less is a compromise to my authority. I will not tolerate your disobedience any longer. Do I make myself clear?'>

Sebastian is struggling to listen in this unnatural position. He finds it difficult to respond with his lips pressed against the rough stone floor.

< 'I said, do I make myself clear?!'?> She smacks him again on the same area on his bottom. He screams out in a strained voice.

<'Yes! Yes! I understand you perfectly!>

<'Good.'>

She releases her foot from his neck and uses it to roll him over to his back. He lets him feel the fleeting sensation of relief from his legs muscles unwinding before she situates her foot in between his legs. She places just enough pressure on his penis and scrotum to cause discomfort but not enough to bruise. He arches his back and squeezes his eyelids when she rolls her foot on him.

<'You may belong to the Clan of Kings. But when you're beneath me, you are nothing. You will always be nothing to me. No matter how many years may pass.'>

She drops to the ground and pins him down. With a knee on his sternum, she violently grabs his throat and clenches it tightly. She shakes him until he finally opens his defeated eyes.

<'In this world of Kindred, there are only leaders and followers. You must learn to be both if you ever hope to rule years from now. Consider this your first lesson.'>

…

Jeanette and Sebastian 'wake up' in each other's presence. Jeanette is on top with her knee on his chest and a hand on his throat. Sebastian is fully clothed still, minus his black tie which was into a makeshift rope around his wrists. He strains his neck to peer at her with bloodshot eyes. Jeanette meet his gaze before rolling into a deep laughter.

<'Sebastian! You sad excuse of a Prince! How can you hope to rule when you cannot relate to those you claim to be your subjects?'>

He's thrown into a shock. <'You- You can speak French?'>

<'Ordinarily? No. But I know enough from Mademoiselle. Was she your sire, you sad little man?'>

Before either of them can continue their exchange, Jeanette feels a hand pulling on the nape of her neck, cutting her away from the illusion. She ascends up into mid-air unexpectedly, where she's met by the Sheriff's disgusted expression.

<'Master. How long are you going to allow this woman to play you like a fool?'>

The large man speaks for the first time in ages in heavily accented French. Jeanette can't understand him, though she knows his words aren't for her.

Sebastian loosens the necktie off his wrists and throws it to the ground.

<'Set her down! Do not harm her. I can handle this matter myself.'> His speech is clear and concise. Even in French, he knows how to command the room.

The Sheriff sets her down on her feet. She immediately retreats when she's released from his grip.

<'I will forgive you this time for acting without my permission. But, this is your only warning. You will not question me or my intentions regarding this matter. Understood?'>

The Sheriff grunts in disapproval. He has no choice but to obey.   
  
<'Yes, my Prince.'> The Sheriff moves back to his usual spot and stands as if nothing had happened.

“Jeanette.” He turns to her with a deceivingly neutral expression and tone. “We will have to discuss this in private. You use the email address on your business card for personal use, correct?”

“Correct.” She nods.

“Check it frequently for my correspondence. I will explain everything to you there, and to your sister as well. I trust that you will keep this confidential?”

“Of course. I won't kiss and tell. I promise.” She holds out a pinky finger to offer a pinky swear. He doesn't react to this.

“If you do... If any word gets out of this, you AND your sister are done in this city. Understand?” His true feelings unravel in his words. He's anxious and afraid, both for his reputation and for his newly discovered vice.

“You will never hear a thing, Prince.” She puts on a serious flat tone. She almost sounds like Therese.

“Good. Now please. Take your leave.”


	5. Confession

May 2002

It's 2AM on a Tuesday night. It's a dead night at the club with only a few regulars showing up for drinks. Therese sits at her desk upstairs, hitting the refresh button every few minutes for any new email to occupy her time with. She would love nothing more than an email from Sebastian, who's been more affectionate lately in their short meetings. Although he would never say why when asked, she notices when his embraces are more intimate and their kisses are more tender and longing. She has been wondering if this is a natural progression, if soon he'll ask her to accompany him to bed. It makes her smile in delight at the thought of it.

Most of the time, it's enough to distract her from the memory of the night Jeanette knocked her out in the Penthouse restroom. That night, she woke up hours later in her apartment, lying in bed in her gray suit, glasses and heels. The first thing she did after waking was pull her hair and yell for Jeanette to get up.

Get up! Get up, damn you! What did you do?!

Jeanette yawns and takes her time to respond.

I met the Prince. It was beautiful! Like a fairy tale, Therese!

Which. One?

A Brothers Grimm fairy tale.

You didn't hurt him, did you?

No more than he wanted me to, sister.

You BITCH! You ruined him for me, didn't you?

Settle down, Therese! I made him play nice.

What does that even mean?!

I went inside him for a bit. Learned what makes him tick. Saw what he likes.

Wha- No you didn't- with him- You couldn't have!

A series of loud knocks at her door startles Therese back into reality. She isn't expecting any visitors for the night. She goes to open the door.

Sebastian stands on the other side in a long trench coat and a trilby obscuring half his face. His eyes open wide to the sight of Therese.

“Therese? G-Good evening.” It's not like him to be nervous or stutter. Therese suspects something.

“I've been waiting for you.” She tells him earnestly, though she doesn’t know the purpose behind this visit. “Please come in.”

He nods. She steps inside to allow him to pass through.

From the middle of the room, she observes him as he walks in. He pans his eyes around the interior briefly before spotting the coat rack and the heart shaped bed.

He removes his coat and hat and hangs them on the rack. He reveals a gray long sleeved dress shirt, a black tie, black trousers secured with a leather belt, and black leather shoes.

He seats himself on the edge of the bed, on the right side slope of the heart.

Therese tries to summon her vision on Sebastian, but it fail to materialize. Why can't she see anymore? Why do her visions falter now when she needs them? What does he want?

Not knowing what to do, she sits next to him on the bed and looks to him sheepishly. He's just as nervous as she is and the meeting becomes awkward.

“Sebastian? Where are we going with this? Are you here to...” She takes his hand and put it on her bare knee. With his hand in hers, she rubs it on her skin and up her thigh. She hopes he'll take his hand and slide it up her skirt, just like how Daddy did on their first night.

Instead, he violently retracts it back.

“Therese! I'm sorry, but there's been a misunderstanding.” He turns away out of embarrassment. “Did... Jeanette not tell you?”

Therese jolts from the shock. She feels as if a knife had landed in her chest. She shoots out from the bed and stands to face him up front. “What?! Tell me what?!

His voice tenses up. “T-that I was seeing her tonight... S-she invited me here.” His hesitance quickly turns accusatory. “I thought she told you everything!”

“She told me nothing! She deceived me!” Therese backs herself into the wall behind her. She covers her face in shame and sheer anger. She digs her nails into her skin, to the point of leaving marks. “Don't tell me she... Please, not you and her...”

One night when Therese was away, Jeanette came out to play.

Daddy snuck into her bedroom and lied next to her. Jeanette put on her best sad girl impression. 'I got hurt today, Daddy. Can you make me feel better?' He puts his hand on the small of her back. 'Of course. That's what I'm here for.' Like Therese, Jeanette lays still and goes numb while Daddy comforts her. Jeanette does her absolute best not to break into a smile when he reaches his peak. Not long after he dismounts, Jeanette wakes Therese up. 'Therese? Oh, Therese. Look what happened.' Therese wakes up to find herself on her back, the sheets removed and a soreness between her legs. Daddy is sitting in an armchair lighting a cigarette. He grins when she catches his gaze. Therese screams from the physical pain and heartbreak. She runs to Daddy's closet where she knows where he keeps his favorite shotgun. She runs back with both barrels aimed at him. She's crying and shaking. 'How could you? I thought I was the only one you loved!' He looks at her for a second. Then he smiles. 'My dear Therese. You always know how to make me proud.' She pulls the trigger. The recoil knocks her back and she nearly falls over. She paints the clown wallpaper behind Daddy with scarlet red and pink. There is nothing else now. Except for her and the other girl, Jeanette.

“No! We haven't yet. Tonight was supposed to be...” Sebastian stands up and moves towards the exit. Therese mimics his movement and closes the distance. “...the first time.”

“The last.” Therese has a pistol in her desk drawer. It has two bullets in the chamber. One for him. One for Jeanette. She makes a move towards the desk.

“Don't you dare try to harm me!” He cuts through the tension with a shriek. “The Sheriff is within calling distance from me. If you try anything on me or block my path, I'll have him come here and strike you down. Then I'll have him find Jeanette and kill her too.”

Jeanette prods at Therese from the inside. Let me talk to him, Therese. I’ll explain myself to you too. This doesn’t have to end in violence.

Therese allows her to share the space. She's furious at Jeanette, but she could use the help, and an explanation.

“No need for that, Pumpkin. We're both here.” Jeanette's sweet, high pitched voice greets him jovially despite the situation.

“What? Where? Where is she?” Sebastian turns and searches in a complete circle for the other sister. He finds nothing.

“In here, hun. All along, we were here.” Jeanette points to their head. She takes an elastic from the desk surface and partially undoes Therese's bun. She ties the loose part into a side pony tail and smudges her makeup on the same side. Then she takes a red lipstick from her pocket and draws a half-smile on her side of their face. Finally, the sisters are together at last.

“You're... the same person?” He looks petrified. He could've run out anytime he wanted but hasn't yet.

“Yes and no, our sweet Prince. We share the same body but not the same soul.”

“We take turns controlling this vessel when it's convenient for business. Or for Jeanette's disgusting pleasures.” Therese takes over with her usual low, domineering tone.

“All this time of sharing the same headspace and powers, and you've never learned how to have fun. You've always been boring, and oddly self-destructive.” Jeanette pokes at Therese's temple like a child.

“So that means both you and Therese, are a Childe of Malkav?” The realization dawns on him. He backs away only to hit Therese's desk from behind. He leans on it to brace himself.

“Yes, we're Malkavian. Always with the funny words, this guy. Why do you like him again?”

“He's educated and eloquent. You should learn to appreciate articulate language more, you deranged slut. Now tell me, why are _you_ involved with him?”

“It’s all in my emails, Therese. I'll show you.” They walk backward, still facing Sebastian and the exit as they move towards the other laptop. “And you, sugar cheeks. Don't move or call the Sheriff, okay? Give me a chance to talk Therese down.”

“What did you-” The diversion seems to work. He's appalled that she called him that. “Alright, fine. Do what you must, then let me go. I'd rather not have the night end in violence.” His face is pink from the shame. He sits in the chair by Therese's desk with his head hanging low.

Jeanette turns on her laptop and together with Therese, they go over her email chains with Sebastian from the past several weeks. The messages are filthy. Absolutely deprived and filthy. Pages upon pages, Therese quickly skims through Sebastian's wicked fantasies, of how he wants to be dominated by a woman just as his sire did to him as a fledgling. She squirms at how Jeanette indulges his desires in painstaking detail, every proposed lustful action and emotion conveyed in surprisingly imaginative writing. Just on the page, she has him figuratively on a collar and leash, and has him pining for retribution through pain and sexual release.

Sebastian's writing is just as eloquent and well-composed as his spoken word. In between heated sessions, he talks about his recent stressors as Prince, how unpopular and disrespected he is amongst many Kindred, how the city is crumbling under the pressure of multiple factions threatening to destroy each other. He thinks of himself as an incapable and immature Prince who took a job way above his level. He seeks to take his sire's previous advice of humbling himself to better understand the pain of his subjects. He is forgetting what it's like to empathize, to struggle from the bottom, and having to fight tooth and nail for relevance.

At the end of the chain, Therese is awestruck. She's angry with Jeanette for neglecting to tell her any of this, but she can't hate her for revealing the truth. She blames Sebastian for letting him play her like a toy. She thought better of him, thought he had it all together, thought he was the perfect gentleman and a neat and tidy businessman like what her father once was.

She thought he could elevate her station to something other than Anarch and dingy club owner. In truth, LA is falling apart because of his incompetence, and he doesn't know how to deal. He finds using loathsome sexual fantasies for escapism as an easier option.

And in the end, this will change nothing. LA will still crumble if someone else doesn’t take charge. Fast.

Sebastian is the real deceiver here. Jeanette was only working to bring him out.

With this realization, Therese approaches Sebastian again at her desk. She's very unamused.

“You're not who I thought you were, Sebastian. You lied to me. You waited for Jeanette to come out to tell me these... things instead. Why?”

He looks up at her pitifully. His brows crinkle above his eyes, the weight of his emotions unsteadily balancing on them. “She doesn't judge me. I am the head of a city where everything I do is scrutinized to a fault, whether it is warranted or not. I stand on a high pedestal where I am lauded with insults and threats of violence, as much as I am given false praise and promises by backstabbing adjutants. I understand that a position of power comes with its caveats but this... It's too much to bear.”

“When we met for the first time in my office that very night, she showed me a place I hadn't seen in many years. She saw how I long for those nights when I was reminded of my lowly humanity and need to be controlled, instead of being the controller. She doesn't think less of me for these desires.” His voice becomes bolder the more he talks. He angles his back upwards to face her more directly. He will not back down from this confession.

“All this time, you strung me along. You pretended to fall in love with me by showing me false affections. I thought you wanted me. But you couldn't even trust me.” Therese can't look him in the eyes. Her chest is heavy with disappointment and sadness.

“How can we speak of trust when you deceived me as well? You played the act of a sensible Ventrue stuck in a feeble Anarch hierarchy. I gave you what I thought you wanted. A stifled, dry performance, as standard for our kind. Real Ventrue do not love, my dear. We only want, obsessively crave, and obtain, then repeat the cycle until nothing is left. Love, as mortals know it, is just an illusion, made to deceive and distract. Purely performative.”

“Again with all the talking, Therese! That's too many words to describe how much he wants to be fucked.” Jeanette chimes in loudly, feeling annoyed.

“It was all an act, Jeanette... I wanted something to be real. Just for once.” Therese is significantly quieter. Jeanette can barely hear her.

“I've seen this countless times before. Men will put on a whole show just to get their kinks in.” Jeanette glares at Sebastian. He doesn't bat an eye.

“I don't understand. It didn't start out that way. Sebastian.” Therese bends down and leans towards the uneasy man. “Do you think of me as simple? Were you just using me to get into the good graces of the Anarchs?”

“Yes. But...” He crosses his arms when he gets tense. “Simple, no. I've grown more fond of you as we've spent more time together. Your business acumen, your unique... outlook and beauty can't be denied. You truly are a remarkable woman.”

Therese stares him down harshly. She's not sure if she wants to embrace him or stomp on him.

“Do both, Therese! Do both!” Jeanette cheers and jumps up and down. Sebastian looks at her bewilderingly.

“He thinks I'm a fool. I'm just an end to a means. I always knew Nines was his first choice. If he was able to meet with him instead, I would have never been a factor.”

“Well yeah, but he doesn't want to get fucked by Nines. An important distinction, don't you think?”

Sebastian winces at the suggestion. Though, he doesn't look completely offended by it.

“Is that supposed to redeem him in my eyes?”

“Just trying to simplify things here. He doesn't love you. He has never loved you. All this stuff with you projecting Daddy onto him is on you, sister.”

“What?” There is no shortage of confusion for Sebastian tonight. He's forgotten how act afraid or concerned.

“Yes, I see that now. He's nothing like Daddy. Compared to him, he's a lying, spineless worm. A pathetic excuse of a man.”

“Who's-”

“What are you going to do with him, Therese? Are you gonna fuck his brains out?”

“Wait-”

“He came here for you, not for me. He said it himself.”

“Honey, I did all this for _you._ I might get a small share, but you should run the show.”

“Stop!” Sebastian outstretches both hands in front of him. “Can someone _please_ , explain to me what was just discussed.”

“Well. I... don't know if we should talk about Daddy. It might make his dick limp.” Jeanette plays with her lip.

“Context, please!” He implores the both of them.

“You're right. I don’t see the connection anymore. He doesn't need to know.” Therese checks underneath her fingernails.

“But why even-” He interjects.

“Shut it!” Therese slaps him across the face in an unprecedented act of rage. This surprises even Jeanette.

“You lied to me and played me like a fool. I don't owe you a damn thing.”

Sebastian turns his head and cups the burning cheek. For a second, there's fury in his eyes. A glint of shock and unbridled rage. But he never says a word. After a slight pause and a sly smirk, he turns his head to present the other cheek.

Therese slaps him harder on the other side. She feels the endorphins rush to her head as soon as the satisfying sound of skin hitting skin completes and leaves Sebastian's face reddened. She breaks out into an unexpected smile to him wincing in pain.

“That's it, Therese! Let him have it. Show him who's really in charge.”


	6. Perversion

Wait, Therese! I forgot to tell you. Blindfold him!

Blindfold him? Why?

His eyes. He's a Ventrue, remember? He tried to dominate me the first time we met. Strip him of that ability. Make him feel helpless.

Therese reaches into the desk drawer to find a strip of black cloth to serve as the perfect blindfold. She approaches him and ties it around his head. He obediently keeps still.

“Can you see anything? Nod or shake.”

Sebastian shakes his head. That's a no.

“Good.”

Before you go hard on him, Therese. There's one important thing you both need. A safe word.

“Jeanette tells me we need to pick a safe word. I'll let you choose. What is it?”

“Mollycoddle.”

“What now?”

“That's my word. Mollycoddle.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It's an effeminate man.”

“So, what you are, basically?”

“...Yes.”

“Perfect.”

Therese grabs him by his shirt and pulls him out of the chair. He dutifully drags his feet behind him as she takes the lead. She pushes him forcefully onto the bed, and watches him bounce on his back in shock. When the movement subsides, he remains still with his arms draped across his front.

She descends upon him like a vulture and tears at his dress shirt. A few buttons pop out of their stitching as she works the shirt off him. Then she throws it across the room away from plain view. She goes to remove his bottoms next, starting with unshackling his belt and tossing it before pulling down his trousers and boxers in one fell swoop. Lastly, she takes off the straggling remnants, his socks, shoes, a watch, and a ring.

Now, he lays beneath her completely bare, free for her to take advantage of his body.

“When you're with me tonight, you're going to call me 'Mistress'. Call me by the wrong name even once and I will cut you off. Understood?”

“Yes... Yes, Mistress. I will do as you say.”

“Good. Don't move.”

She starts by kissing his bare skin, starting from the neck and working her way down. He lets out a gasp as her soft lips tickle him. She follows with her tongue, letting them touch and travel down his body ever so softly. She exhales onto his skin to bring warmth to his cold, supple skin. He moans from the unexpected worship.

His skin is pale, almost alabaster white with tinges of pink and blue. His body is slim and tight with lean muscle from his mortal life as a French officer. She massages the muscles on his chest, arms, abdomen, and legs to get a feel of their surprising density. Sebastian might not be the strongest, but there's no doubt he would be able to carry himself physically.

Sebastian shivers when she inadvertently brushes her hand against his cock and balls. She brings her attention to the sensitive area. He lets out a gasp when she runs her fingers around the delicate skin and curly blond hairs. He begins to stiffen.

She cups them with one hand and squeezes tightly.

“Ahh-!” He yells out and tenses his body to the pain. His hands grip the silky sheets underneath him.

She twists her hand slightly to trigger another reaction.

He cries out again and tightens his thighs to lock her in between them.

“Is this punishment enough? Do you need more?” Her hand doesn't loosen or let go. She leans in forward to resist him pushing back.

“Mo- M...” He begins to shutter and wavering in pitch. He's as if he wants to say something but is afraid to speak.

Therese suspects he's hesitating to use the safe word. She releases him and backs away from the bed. He's still writhing in discomfort when she lands on her feet to stand.

Jeanette? What do I do? Did I hurt him too much?

A little maybe. Can't be too sure, gotta ask.

“Had enough already?” She raises her voice at him, pretending to be disappointed and angry.

“No- I-I'm fine. I swear.” He mutters with a hint of desperation. “I... haven't been punished enough. Please..”

Jeanette? What should I do next? I don't know how to handle this...

No worries. I'm right here. Flip him over and ties his hands behind his back. Use the rope in the drawer.

Therese follows her direction. In the tall drawer beside her, there's a bright pink rope that's velvety to the touch yet stiff enough not to stretch. She goes back on the bed to flip him over and tightly ties his wrists behind his back. She moves his wrists around to make sure he can't jiggle his way out of it. She knows she did it right when he reacts in discomfort to the lack of mobility. She leans on his bound wrists to press him down on the bed.

She peers her view down from his wrists to his rear. It's taut, firm, and lean. She gives one of his cheeks a playful squeeze to get a feel for him. He lets out a small voluntary moan, which she finds delightful.

She stands up on the bed to drag him with her to the edge. She positions him to lay face down on her lap with his ass situated on her knees.

In this new position, she brings her hand down for one firm slap on both cheeks. He gasps and trembles slightly.

“You've been bad to me, Sebastian. You used me and lied to me.” She reprimands him with a harsh throaty tone. The frustration she feels is real, even if this is just an act. He doesn't respond or react to this statement.

“Say something, you spineless worm.” She spanks him harder, leaving a residual red handprint on one cheek.

“I'm sorry, Mistress.” He tells her quietly from beneath her. It's too understated.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” With her left hand, he grabs the back of his hair and pulls upward, putting tension on his scalp. He lets out a pitiful yelp.

“I gave myself to you. I took time out of my busy nights to flatter you and entertain your silly requests. I compromised my standing with the Anarchs just so I could be by your side. And what do you do?” She delivers another punishing smack to his rear, hard enough to leave a welt. He lets out a strained cry.

“What did you do? Tell me!”

“I used you. I lied and pretended to care when I didn't...” The struggling man tries to push the words out of his mouth through the ache and tension. Therese feels his voice reverberate through his core.

“I cared for you. I wanted you to see me, to be with me. Then you went and co-mingled with my own sister! Wrote her love notes behind my back!” She feels her eyes sting from rising emotions. She spanks him again, this time it's hard enough to be a proper strike.

“Ahh!” He screams out in agony. The blow leaves his entire bottom red and sore. His hands behind him turn white from gripping them so hard. He shakes from the radiating burn that's left behind.

“All that filth you wrote to her... You could've done that with me instead. I would've given this to you sooner. Is this what you wanted?” She smacks him again with less force. His body contracts from the sudden sting. He cries out again.

“I said, is this what you wanted?!” In a sudden eruption of anger, she spanks him multiple times across his whole rear in quick succession. Each smack leaves a trail of red and large welts He cries out louder in agony each time but never says a word.

When she finally stops, his bottom is so red it's almost to the point of bleeding. he's breathing heavily beneath her, his chest rises and falls unsteadily in an attempt to keep his composure. He's starting to lose it.

Therese sees this and feels a strong ping of guilt. Her heart drops. “Please tell me. Say something. Anything.” Her voice is low with genuine concern and regret.

“Ahh..” He gasps and pushes air out of his lungs, almost as if he's sobbing. “I... don't... deserve... to be Prince.” He speaks between hard, labored breaths. “I... deserve... to pay... for my mistakes...”

In his recovery, his body goes limp on her lap. His hands release from their grip, his fingers unraveling as they revert to their gray color. He rests his face on the sheet as his chest stabilizes. Then he stops his breathing entirely.

“Mistress... I am yours... to do as you please. I am meant... to be used...” Sebastian's voice is calm and tender, yet still raspy from his ordeal. “I want to pleasure you. Please. Let me.” His words bite with heavy lust and desire. He wants to please so badly, to make Therese happy for once.

Therese sits in silence as she contemplates what she wants from him. She flips him so he lies on his back on her lap. She cradles him in her arms lovingly as she admires his face. His full, heart-shaped lips are slightly parted as if he's been waiting in anticipation to use them. She leans in and plunges her mouth into his, lapping him up and tasting him with her tongue. He responds with a soft moan as she works her lips onto his. He reciprocates softly with slight movements for every rough one she delivers. For every second she spends locked in this embrace, she feels the blood rush between her thighs and up to her blushing cheeks.

She knew for a long time that she wanted to take him. Now, she gets to take him the way she's always dreamed of taking a man.

She releases herself from the cradle and gets off the bed. A clueless Sebastian is left hanging in a brief feeling of disappointment. She swiftly undoes her hair and wipes off her makeup. She strips herself free of her suit and lingerie until she is also bare.

She crawls back unto the bed and on top of Sebastian. She brushes her moistening pussy against his hardening member and listens as he moans excitably. She lays her whole body on top of him so he can get a feel for her bare skin. Like him, she's ice-cold to the touch. Goosebumps form on the entirety of both their bodies. He wriggles himself beneath her to better accommodate their touching skin.

She pulls his hair back and passionately kisses his neck, and even teases with small nibbling bites to throw him further into a pleasurable frenzy. He exudes a flurry of sinful noises from the back of his throat.

Her blood grows hot from seeing him helplessly enjoy being used. He's at her beck and call, subject to her mercy, or total lack of it if she wishes. She wants him so badly. She needs to be pleased.

She grabs his shoulders and leads him off the bed until he's on the ground on his knees. She sits at the edge with her legs wide open and grabs him by his hair.

“Sebastian. I need you to pleasure me with that overused mouth of yours. Use that ever-wagging tongue to make me come. ” She strokes his hair lovingly as she positions her feet to hold her legs in place. “Can you do this?”

“Of course, Mistress. I only serve to make you come.”

Therese shivers in delight when she feels his breath against her expecting pussy.

“Yes. That's right.”

She slowly leads his head in towards her, watching in heat as he fully extends his tongue to reach her pussy. When he does, he immediately gets to work. He begins with light and slow twirls around her clit, careful not to give her too much stimulus at once. His tongue is warm and wet against her; every small lick sends a wave of pleasure through her body. She lets out an elongated moan as her clit becomes more tender from his gentle licking.

She pushes him into her a little more and leads him down to lick her folds. He traces the contours carefully with the tip of his tongue before plunging its whole length inside of her.

“Ahh..” She sighs and thrusts her hips forward to feel more of his tongue inside. He laps his tongue around hungrily in response to her pushing herself on him more. Oh, does she love his enthusiasm.

She pulls him back up to her clit and motivates him to lick her with everything he has. He brings his sweet lips around the hood and focuses his wagging tongue on her swollen clit. Her moans become louder and more pronounced as he stimulates her wanting womanhood more and more. She grows more sensitive to the growing heat and pleasure that's threatening to take her over.

With her hand still gripping the back of his head, she massages his scalp and runs her fingers through his blond locks. This encouragement pushes him to lick and kiss her more passionately. She throws her head back in surprise ecstasy.

“Ah... Sebastian...” Her voice is heavy and breathy with lust and desperation. “Let's try something... Sp- spell your name out with your tongue...”

He moans a sign of confirmation. The vibration from his moan adds another tinge of pleasure.

He traces each letter deliberately, letting her feel every distinct line and curve against her. In the thralls of euphoria, she can't pinpoint which letter is which. It could be all in cursive for all she knows. All she feels is his tongue driving her wild, bringing her ever closer to release.

She closes her eyes as the pleasure builds up further around her pussy. She thrusts her hips into him while also pushing him in with her hand, motivating him to lick and suck her clit with the most amount of intensity he can muster.

“I-I'm about to come.. I...” She lets out a loud cry as she finally meets her release. Heated pleasure surges through her nerves like an unbearable shock coming in multiple waves. She tightens her thighs around his head as her whole body tenses in on itself, squeezing him to a point where he can't move his facial muscles.

He loudly mutters something from between her, perhaps begging for her to release him. She can't make out any of his words. When the pleasure shock finally dies down, she spreads her thighs apart and lets go of his hair. He backs away on his knees in an instant and forces himself to breathe to recover. She gazes upon the lower half of his face, his mouth and chin reddened and covered in her moisture. He looks exhausted and thankful to be done with the act.

“Sebastian...” She calls his name for the sheer pleasure of doing so. Otherwise, she is speechless, light-headed, and high from the strongest orgasm she's ever had.

“Mistress...” He calls back to reciprocate the gesture. His voice, while strained, is gentle and loving.

Therese imagines it as him being proud of his service.

She scooches herself to the center of the bed and turns to lie on her side. Fully satisfied and happy, she finds no need to do anything else. She feels the call to relax and eventually drift herself to sleep.

...

Therese??? Therese!!! You're not done yet! What about poor 'bastian?

Therese opens her eyes and groans in annoyance.

What about him? I punished him and had him serve his function. He seems pleased with himself. What more is there to do?

You didn't reward him for his hard work. He hasn't met his release yet.

He didn't ask for it.

It's what he came for! It's what we talked about in those emails...

I never read that section.

Therese! It's only fair.

I'm tired, Jeanette. What do you want me to do, jack him off?

Therese... Here, how 'bout I do it? I know what he wants.

...Fine. If you can pull us out of bed, you're more than welcome to. I'm going to sleep.

…

Jeanette gets herself out of bed and fights off the light-headedness from the previous orgasm. Sebastian is still kneeling on the floor with his head sloped down in boredom.

He perks up when he senses her walk towards him and then behind him. She unties the rope binding from his wrists and discards the rope behind her. She watches as his arms fall back to his sides. He massages the tension marks on his wrists with his hands and sighs in sweet relief.

“Hey, carrot. It's me, Jeanette. Ready for Round Two?” Her tone is high and sickly sweet and conveyed in slightly exaggerated joy to further make the distinction between her and Therese.

“J-Jeanette?” He sounds confused, but also seems pleasantly surprised. “Of course. Do you need me to call you Mistress too?”

“Just Jeanette is fine, 'bastian. 'sides, it's not me getting it this time. I want to hear you scream my name through the rooftop with those honeysuckle lips.”

“Ah, I see...” His lips quiver, either in fear or anticipation or both. “Is the safe word still the same?”

She tilts her head. He must not realize that she witnessed and felt the whole thing he had with Therese. “Yeah, I remember. The funny word for a feminine dude.”

“Right, yes.” He seems relieved. “Very well, Jeanette. Lead the way.“

“Get situated on the bed, babe. I need a minute.” She instructs him.

He nods in her general direction. He uses his newly freed hands to search around for the bed's surface and climbs on top of it. He turns to his side and brings his knees in slightly. He looks as if he's trying to relax despite the anticipation or anxiety.

Jeanette smiles. She reaches into a drawer in the high cabinet and pulls out her favorite piece of equipment: a strap on belt with a realistic girthy 8-inch dildo attached. She works to wrap and secure the belt around her pelvis, making sure to let Sebastian here every metal clink and leather strap being secured.

“Sit up. I'm getting on.”

He does so. He sits with his legs half bent in front of him and his hands resting on his knees.

She skips to the bed, allowing the strap on to jingle with every bounce. She sees his ears perk in curiosity. She sits next to him to his right, close enough for them to touch hips. He doesn't move or flinch as she situates herself.

“Give me your right hand, 'bastian. Put it in mine.” She asks him kindly and sweetly. She extends a hand out in front of him. He searches for her hand near him and places his right hand on top.

She takes his hand and leads it to her dildo. She wraps his fingers around it one finger at a time, watching his reaction go from shock to awe as his touch gets more acquainted with it.

“Get a good feel for it, bunny. Move it up and down and twist.” She moves his wrist up and down to get him started. Soon, he does it on his own and feels its shape and texture for himself. It's smooth and skinlike with protruding veins and a bulbous head. He traces his fingers around it, then lightly grips it to feel its girth. Then he begins to pump it as if it was his own or another man's.

She giggles and finds it amusing. “Put it in your mouth, baby. Get it wet.” She touches the back of his neck softly.

He licks his lips. He changes his position so he can lean down with his face by the phallus and his arm beneath to support his weight. He grips the base of the cock with his hand and starts out by lightly kissing the tip. He follows by brings his tongue around the contours of the head then down the shaft. His hand by the base lightly squeezes the balls near the bottom.

She licks her lips from the delicious sight. “Go down on it. Cover the whole length with your spit.”

He brings his mouth back to the top of the head. Slowly, he slips down until his lips wrap around the neck of the cock. Jeanette purrs like a cat and gently pushes down on his head to go further. He bobs his head up and down, going further down after each bob. The furthest he can reach through this is halfway down the shaft. He adds twists and laps his tongue around on each downward bob out of personal desire.

“Mmm...” She hums from her viewing pleasure. She suspects that Sebastian is also well versed in orally pleasing men as well as women, and it excites her. “Can you deep throat it all the way down?”

“Mmm...” He hums back with his mouth still on the dick. He retracts up and slowly pushes down on the shaft, opening his throat to take the full girth as best he can. He doesn't quite make it all the way down, his lips end at around the 6-inch mark, though she is still more than pleased with him.

“Good boy, 'bastian. You can let go now.” He pulls up from the dildo. A small dribble of spit trails off his lips as he frees himself. He wipes it off with the back of his hand.

“Think you're ready to take it?” She pats him on the lower back and touches the top of his ass.

“I uhh... think I need to... loosen up first.” He says nervously as if he doesn't want to disappoint.

“That's no problem, hun. Lie back. I'll make it easy on you.”

“Al-alright.” He lies on his back and rests his head on the pillow. He puts his knees up and feet flat on the surface. He rests his arms loosely by his sides.

Jeanette grabs a bottle of lube from a nightstand drawer. She coats three of her fingers on her right hand with the slick substance and evenly applies it with her thumb. She sits on her knees in between his legs and lightly touches his knee with her dry left hand. “I'm going in, okay?” She tells him.

“Please. Go ahead.” He pleads.

She teases his entrance by lightly brushing her index finger around it. She feels him shudder from the cold touch.

She slowly slides the finger in, giving him time to accommodate as she pushes in little by little.

“Ahh...” As a man who hasn't been penetrated in a long time, and as a Kindred who's naturally frigid, he's extremely tight. He groans in slight discomfort as he tenses and contracts himself around her.

She moves her finger in and out very carefully, using the slick surface of the lube for leverage. After a few rounds, the movement becomes smoother and more routine and starts to become pleasurable. His groans turn into blissful sighs.

She adds her middle finger in for added girth. The process begins again with him contracting from discomfort and her easing her way in until his body accepts it. When he begins to slip in and out almost seamlessly, she adds a curling motion to her fingers in a “come hither” way.

He moans loudly. After a few more curls, his member stiffens, and he begins to thrust his hips downwards to beg for more.

She lets out a wide devilish grin and spontaneously kisses his stomach. “Ready for the full thing, kitten?”

“Y-Yes...!” He says as she's still pistoning her fingers into him.

“Are you sure, kitty? You don't sound so sure...” She teases him by keeping the same pace.

“Yes... I'm sure. Please...or I'll...” His voice is raspy from the increasing pleasure. He grips the sheets beneath with both hands. His cock is fully hard and bouncing with every inward thrust.

“I want you to beg for it. Beg me to stop.” She inserts the last finger for good measure. He resists again but stretches out more easily. She increases the pressure and the pace, wanting to see him squirm in agony.

“Pl-please! Stop! I beg you!!!” His cry is much louder than expected. If someone was outside the office door, or even outside the elevator on the first floor, they would've heard him.

She pulls out all fingers in one fell swoop. He collapses his legs down fully onto the bed and gasps for air. She lets him rest for a few minutes to let his blood settle down. The lower half of his face is red from stimulation and shame. His breathing is audible, comprising of short, heated breaths and the occasional moan.

Unable to resist his cuteness, he pounces on him and locks her lips onto his. They make out for a while, with her madly thrashing her tongue about inside and him attempting to reciprocate when he can keep up. Her bodies together become almost hot to the touch.

Eventually, she breaks the connection. She collapses to his right on her back, bounces as she hits the firm mattress, and reaches for the lube bottle again. She lightly coats the dildo in the sleek liquid before wiping the contents off her hands with a rag.

She grabs Sebastian by his shoulder and pushes him upwards. “Cock is primed and ready, kitten. Time to sit on it.”

He sits up then rolls forward on his knees. He grabs her knees and uses them to lead himself in between. She rubs the cock against his still reddened and sensitive backside to help him get into position. He reaches around to grab the slick member with a free hand and guides himself down onto it.

He groans when he feels the initial pressure and tightness around it, but still persists in letting himself slide down the member as far as he can. When he gets as far down as he can manage, he places his hands on the bed to the sides of her hips and anchors himself in place. He lifts himself up when he seeks relief, then goes down again to open more of himself. Eventually, he finds a slow and steady rhythm going up and down. He delivers a constant stream of gasps, moans, and sighs as it goes even deeper into him.

“Oh, 'bastian. You're such a natural. Keep going and cum on that dick.” She loves the view of his welted red cheeks jiggling and bouncing on her cock. She grips his hips from behind and follows him as he thrusts and lifts himself onto her repeatedly.

“Ahh...” He lets out a breathy moan as he struggles to keep his composure. He shivers in physical exertion as he balances trying to keep a steady rhythm while also pushing to reach his peak as fast as he can.

Then somewhere in the process, he accidentally slips off the dildo and falls backward onto Jeanette. She's temporarily crushed by his weight.

“Ahh! Sebastian!” She yells out. She forcefully rolls him off her and moves to get off the bed. It's been a while since someone who wasn't Therese really pissed her off.

“Jeanette! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!” He calls out to her in a scratchy high pitch. He gets on all fours and turns to face her direction. “Did I hurt you? Are you alright?”

She stares at him and says nothing. She purposefully leaves him hanging for as long as she can stand the silence. He's shaking like a leaf from anxiety. He must be terrified that Jeanette might want to cut him off here. It's so amusing to her.

“I'm peachy keen, 'bastian. You don't look so well. Do we need to stop?” She delivers a teasing jab.

“No!” He shouts out desperately. “I mean... no. I'm fine. Let us continue...” He leaves the sentence hanging with parted lips and clenched teeth. He needs his release badly.

Jeanette has another idea. “Change of plans, hun. Lie on your back. I'm taking over.” She walks over to the edge of the bed and waits for Sebastian. He promptly gets on his back and splays his knees apart to display himself to her. She licks her lips. He looks absolutely scrumptious.

She gets on top and mounts him from the front. She forces his legs up and positions herself at his entrance. He cries out and grabs the sheets as she fully sheaths her cock into him. She thrusts and gyrates her hips back and forth, pounding the cock in and out of him without resistance. He throws his head back in overwhelming pleasure and lets out a flurry of sinful noises as she hits his soft spot over and over again. She pumps his hard cock in front of her with her hand as she continues fucking him.

“That's it, baby. Lose yourself to me. I wanna see you cum all over yourself.” She purrs and teases him.

“More... more...” He mutters as he's getting jostled back and forth from being fucked senselessly. She obliges him. She pounds into him and strokes him as hard and fast as she can muster.

“Call. My. Name.” She commands him while she's still going full force.

“Jeanette... Jeanette!” It's not long until he screams out his release and shoots his fluids onto his stomach and chest. He grips the sheets so hard he pulls them off the mattress. Jeanette cackles at the sight of him making a mess of himself as he's thrown into mind-blowing ecstasy. She stops her movement as soon as he stops twitching and writhing on her cock.

“Good boy, 'bastian. You handled this really well.” She tells him sweetly. He lies perfectly still, not moving or breathing. She knows he's simply resting in pure empty-headed bliss. Like a little death.

She stands up to remove the strap on belt off her hips. She lets it drop to the floor in a loud crash; she's relieved to have the hard leather straps off her skin. She looks to Sebastian to see if he moved at all. He hasn't.

She lies back down to admire him from her side. She smiles at the view of his calm and satisfied face. She finds it funny that he's not doing anything about the mess on himself or even reacting to it.

“Can I take the blindfold off?” After minutes of inactivity, he finally mutters a word. He's so quiet and gentle Jeanette can barely hear him.

“Let me, bunny.” She unties the blindfold and lifts it from his eyes. As a courtesy, she wipes the mess off his body before tossing it aside. For a minute, he covers his eyes with his hand in reaction to the sudden intake of light. When he's able to, he sets his hand down and looks around the room with open eyes.

He turns to give Jeanette eye contact. His eyes are still as bright and striking and ever. Though this time, there's a gentleness in his silver-blue hue she's never seen before. He gives her a wide smile. He seems happy, genuinely happy and overjoyed for the first time in a long time. Jeanette finds him endearing.

...Jeanette? It's me, Therese. I'm up now. Let me talk to him.

“Hey, 'bastian? Therese wants to talk. Are you up for it?” She asks him in a whisper.

“Of course. We can talk.”

The sisters switch places seamlessly. Jeanette goes back into hiding while Therese comes to the front.

“Sebastian. You look... absolutely breathtaking right now...” Therese mutters softly in her deep tone. She brushes his soft blushing cheek. He smiles.

“How are you, my Prince?” She reaches down to hold his hand. He lovingly reciprocates and intermingles his fingers with hers.

“Tonight was... like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was strange, and a little frightening at times... yet still delightful.” He brings her hand to kiss it. This warms her heart. “Did you enjoy yourself, Therese?”

“Yes. Yes I did. It was amazing.” She brings herself closer to him to embrace him. She wraps her arm around his shoulder and holds him close. He puts his hand on her waist. “How were your dealings with Jeanette? Was she rough with you?”

“Yes, she was. It was rather unexpected, but I was prepared. We planned out how we'd perform that act in our emails. I had no idea she... was so well versed. Please give her my regards when you speak with her next.”

Therese's lip twitches. She's still peeved about him and Jeanette, but she can't be mad at him now. She had already unloaded her anger onto his bottom not that long ago. “Listen, I'm sorry for treating you so roughly, I...I was frustrated.”

“It's alright. I understand. There was some truth to what you said when you reprimanded me. It's true that... I feel inadequate as a Prince. The city is falling all around me, and under the pressure, I've done many things poorly... Including how I handled our relationship. And mine with Jeanette. I deserved the harsh reception.”

“Is it true then? That you never cared for me at all?” She asks pleadingly.

“Well... that was a half-lie. I cared for you a little. As a... curious distraction. I didn't care in the way you wanted me to. That's the truth. I'm sorry.”

“How do you feel about me now?” It feels like a foolish question, but she feels she deserves to know.

“In all honesty... I don't know. I can't tell you right now. I promise I will give it some thought.” He averts his eyes in shame.

She frowns in the way she knew she would. “Whatever it is, promise me you'll honor me with a response. I still care for you in ways I shouldn't.”

His brows furrow in concern. “I know. I will. You have my word.”

She brings her lips to his and delivers a soft kiss. He locks his lips in place and keeps them there. She closes her eyes as she treasures the feeling of his soft embrace.

They stay this way until they fall asleep together when morning inevitably comes.

When Therese wakes the following night, she finds Sebastian gone from the room and his belongings taken. She lays alone and bare on the bed with her heart heavy on her mind.


	7. Epilogue

A few weeks later...

It's been business as usual at the club and with the Anarchs. Not much has changed in the greater scheme of things. Therese is still handling the paperwork. Jeanette still handles the front and co-mingles with mortals more than she should. Nines still hates them and the Anarchs are still disjointed.

The only thing that's different is Therese's recurring anxiety. The Prince hasn't made contact with either her or Jeanette since that faithful night. She understands that he must be busy with his duties and doesn't have time to deal with personal affairs, but it still bites her in the back of her mind that he might not honor his promise.

On a slow night, she sits idly by her desk and stares blankly at the large painting she had made of Daddy and the two sisters as children. The Malkavian artist who created it captured each of their essences all too well. She could only trust another one of her kind to appeal to her deranged mind, after all.

Daddy was tall and handsome. A businessman who was always busy and well spoken. With Nana and his wife gone from his life, he counted on his little girl Therese to obediently wait for him at home. Every day, Therese waited on him with a mild anxiety. Always afraid that one day, he would be so caught up in business that he would forget all about her. Always afraid that one day, he would leave and never come back.

A loud ring from her landline interrupts her vision. She picks it up with no hesitation.

“Therese Voerman. To whom am I speaking with?” She opens with her usual business stance.

“Therese. It's Sebastian. Sebastian LaCroix. Is now a good time to speak?”

“Yes. I have time. What do you need to tell me?” She brings her voice down to be softer and subdued. Her heart has been waiting a long time to hear him.

“I don't wish to take up much of your time so I will cut to the chase. I am grateful for your service as the Anarch ambassador to the Camarilla. I am... also appreciative of our unique relationship status. However, I've decided that I cannot allow for it to continue. It would be too much of a threat and a liability given my current position. I hope you can understand.” His reply is clear and direct as if speaking from a teleprompter. Though the last few words trail off slightly into sadness.

His response feels like a stake through Therese's chest. She freezes in place and she had no idea how she's supposed to react. She just feels empty. “I do... but is there no other way?” She tries to hold back her emotion.

“No. There is no negotiating this. I am simply delivering the news to fulfill my promise.” He speaks as if it's just business, business he no longer wants any involvement in.

“But what about our work? How will we hope to bridge the gap between our factions?”

“You will still be contacted for questions and inquiries. And you will still have access to my contacts if the need arises. But I implore you to only use it for business purposes. We cannot have any personal contact ever again. It's for the better.”

Therese feels numb, then cold and broken. Used. Discarded. Forgotten. Forsaken.

“If that's how it's going to be, then I don't have a choice. Goodbye, Prince LaCroix.” She tries to sound strong despite holding back tears.

“Good night-” She slams the headset onto the receiver violently. She picks up the nearest glass, one half-full of blood and throws it at the little girl with the red ribbon in the painting.

She screams as she watches the red liquid splatter all over the fine, oil painted skin of the child.

Curse you, Jeanette! Curse you! Curse you forever! For taking another one away from me!


End file.
